


Crepuscular

by HoneyPomegranate



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Bigotry & Prejudice, Blood Drinking, Blood and Violence, Book 6: Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, Childe/Sire Bond(s), M/M, Racism, Speciesism, The Ministry of Magic (Harry Potter) is Terrible, Vampire Turning
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-11
Updated: 2020-01-10
Packaged: 2021-02-27 07:28:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22193308
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HoneyPomegranate/pseuds/HoneyPomegranate
Summary: In Harry Potter's sixth year he meets a Vampire and makes a naive offer which changes his life in ways no one could have predicted.
Relationships: Harry Potter/Sanguini
Comments: 16
Kudos: 240





	Crepuscular

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: The Harry Potter septology belongs to J. K. Rowling. I claim no ownership of the series, nor the characters or locations within the Harry Potter universe. I am making no money from the making of this fanwork. This fanwork is for the entertainment of readers and nothing more.
> 
> \--
> 
> Warnings: Blood, Blood drinking, Violence, Semi-Underage Sexual Content (16 is legal in Uk), Speciesism/Racism, Racist/Speciesist Slurs and Language, Mature Language and Themes.
> 
> \--
> 
> Author Note: The first quarter-ish of chapter one is paraphrased near verbatim from chapter 15 of Harry Potter and the halfblood prince. No plagiarism is intended. This is to set the scene and place where the story takes off.
> 
> This fanwork is a work in progress. It is not brit-picked, beta'd, proofed, or edited. Read at your own risk.   
> Updates bi-weekly (every other week.)

Harry fidgets with the sleeve of his dress robes as he makes his way to the entrance hall to pick up Luna for Slughorn's Christmas party. A startling amount of girls, and a few boys, glare at him on his way, and an unusually large number of girls are lurking there when he arrives, staring reproachfully at Luna. Unlike Harry, who is wearing the same dress robes he wore to the Yule ball, she looks nice, though her odd spangled silver robes seem to attract a certain amount of giggles from the onlookers, and Harry glares at all of them to show his disapproval of their petty commentary. She left her radish earrings, butterbeer cork necklace, and Spectrespecs behind and, while it isn't his business to tell her what to wear, he is nonetheless a little relieved she chose to go without them.

“Hi,” he starts, ignoring everyone else and shifting uncomfortably on his feet, “Shall we get going then?”

“Oh yes,” she smiles like a sunflower. “Where is the party?”

“Slughorn’s office,” responds Harry, leading her up the marble staircase away from all the staring and muttering. “Did you hear, there’s supposed to be a vampire coming?”

“Rufus Scrimgeour?” asks Luna.

“I - what?” Harry sputters, disconcerted. “You mean the Minister of Magic?”

“Yes, he’s a vampire,” Luna says matter-of-factly. “Father wrote a very long article about it when Scrimgeour first took over from Cornelius Fudge, but he was forced not to publish by somebody from the Ministry. Obviously, they didn’t want the truth to get out!”

Harry chooses not to reply. He thinks it is unlikely that Rufus Scrimgeour is a vampire, but by now he is used to Luna repeating her father’s bizarre views as though they are fact, and so he nods at her.

The sounds of laughter, music, and loud conversation grow louder with every step they take, and soon they are at Slughorn's office. Slughorn’s office is much larger than the usual teacher’s study, though whether that is how it was built, or if Slughorn used some spell to make it so, is something Harry does not know. From the ceiling and walls hang drapes of emerald, crimson, and gold, giving the illusion that they are all inside a vast tent. The room is crowded and stuffy, bathed in the red light cast by an ornate golden lamp that dangles from the center of the ceiling. Inside tge chandelier real fairies flutter, each a brilliant speck of light kept cruelly like lightning bugs in a jar. Loud singing accompanying mandolins issues from a distant corner; a haze of pipe smoke hangs over several elderly warlocks deep in conversation like a mist, and a number of house elves negotiate their way squeakily through the forest of knees, obscured by the heavy silver platters of food they bear, so that they look like little roving tables 

“Harry, m’boy!” Slughorn booms, almost as soon as Harry and Luna squeeze in through the door. “Come in, come in, so many people I’d like you to meet!”

His grip on Harry’s arm is so tight Hary feels he might Disapparate with him as Slughorn leads him purposefully into the party. Harry reaches out to seize Luna’s hand, but he is unable to drag her along with him, and soon the crowd swallows her.

“Harry, I’d like you to meet Eldred Worple, an old student of mine, author of Blood Brothers: My Life Amongst the Vampires," Slughorn introduced, and then, as if he wasn't as important, he added, "and, of course, his friend Sanguini.”

Worple, a small, stout, bespectacled man, grabs Harry’s hand and shakes it enthusiastically. The vampire Sanguini, tall, pale, and emaciated with dark shadows under his eyes, merely nods, looking as bored as Harry is uncomfortable. Harry smiles awkwardly at him, and Sanguini flashes a fangy smile his way that draws a few giggles from the gaggle of girls standing close to him, looking curious and excited. His heart stutters oddly in his chest, though it isn't from fear, and his palms sweat.

“Harry Potter, I am simply delighted!” Worple says, peering shortsightedly up into Harry’s face. “I was saying to Professor Slughorn only the other day, ‘Where is the biography of Harry Potter for which we have all been waiting?’"

“Er,” Harry shifts on his feet and twists his fingers around the sleeve of his robes, distractedly peering over at the vampire from the corner of his eyes. “were you?”

“Just as modest as Horace described!” laughs Worple, then he turns suddenly businesslike. “But seriously, I would be delighted to write it myself. People are craving to know more about you, dear boy, craving! If you were prepared to grant me a few interviews, say in four or five-hour sessions, why, we could have the book finished within months. And all with very little effort on your part, I assure you. Ask Sanguini here if it isn’t quite - Sanguini, stay here!” Worple cuts himself off to scold, suddenly stern.

The vampire had been edging toward the nearby group of girls, a rather hungry look in his eye, and Harry gives him a sympathetic look as Worple drags him closer by the shirt sleeve like a dog on a leash. He too wants to find food and get away from Worple. Sanguini stands stiffly by his human companion and Harry shivers as the vampire's eyes linger on his neck. Harry tugs his collar, watching as his eyes darken impossibly. He wonders what it would be like, then shakes the thought violently away. Tempting a vampire to taste his blood would be a new level of rash he has yet to reach.

“Here, have a pasty,” Worple seizes one from a passing elf and stuffs it into Sanguini’s hand before turning his attention back to Harry as the Vampire stares at it with disgust. "My dear boy, the gold you could make, you have no idea-”

Harry only pays half an ear to the man, irritated by his offer, and far too fascinated by Sanguini to really listen to his nonsense. The vampire discards the pastry and looks to his sugared fingers in irritation. His fingers are rather long, elegant and pail with very sharp nails. Harry feels another rush of longing and realizes if he doesn't leave soon he might be in danger of doing something incredibly rash, even by Gryffindor standards.

“I’m definitely not interested,” Harry cuts in firmly before things can escalate, “and I’ve just seen a friend of mine, sorry.”

He escapes while the man is still shockingly silent, but Luna disappears just as quickly, swept into a dance with a slytherin boy he doesn't recognize, leaving him stranded on the dance floor with no one to escape to. Harry reflects he can't be mad because he had unintentionally done the same earlier, and he makes his way to the drink table. There is a bottle of wine, deep burgundy in color, and Harry glances around to make sure he is not going to be seen, then pours some into a goblet. It's bitter, but not unpleasant, and Harry feels better after a few gulps. He slides a little closer to the punch bowl so he looks less incriminating, and his eyes wander back to the vampire, fascinated but unwilling to brave Worples presence to talk to him. Sanguini tilts his head Harry's way to flash him an amused little smirk, which Harry returns with a raise of his goblet.

Their eyes lock across the room, as if they are engaging in an intense staring contest on opposing sides of the room. Harry takes a sip of the wine. A drip slips down from his lip, red as blood, and the vampire stares as if riveted. Harry tilts his head a small degree, his neck exposed, and Sanguini takes an aborted step towards him, intercepted by Worple and handed yet another pastry to his amusement. The vampire is less amused.

A man comes toward the table soon after and grabs the bottle with a tsk. "Maldita sanguijuela." he grumbles before taking the bottle and chugging.

The full body twitch Sanguini gives at those words is the same he's seen from Hermione when someone has called her a mudblood. The man leaves, taking the wine with him, but Harry is more concerned about the vampire than he is about the asshole. Sanguini says something to Worple that has the man looking startled, and then leaves rather quickly. Worple makes a move to go after him, but the gaggle of girls decend upon the bespectacled man, proving themselves useful to Harry's delight. One girl, a hufflepuff seventh year with hair like autumn, winks at Harry and he fights down his embarrassment at being caught blatantly flirting with the vampire. Harry turns his head and watches Sanguini go, then he sets the goblet down and follows after, briefly stopping to exchange a wave with Luna and a thumbs up with the winking girl.

The noise of the party is cut to a third when the doors slam shut behind him. Sanguini is just outside, back against the wall, fists clenched so tight his knuckles look like bone. Harry wonders if he should go, but playing with fire is basically his whole personality so instead he stands next to the Vampire, mimicking his posture, though with less ire and more concern.

"What did he say?" Harry inquires softly after about three minutes of tense silence.

"Leech." he responds, his eyes are void black from corner to corner when he turns them on Harry, dangerous and dark and filled with fire. "He said, 'Damn leech'."

Harry frowns. "That's rude."

That startles a laugh out of the vampire, which has the added benefit of making his eyes turn back to normal. His laugh is oddly nice, and Harry notes that his eyes are an unfairly pretty shade of indigo-black. He gulps slightly as his face heats up and his heart stutters, though he isn't sure why he is reacting like this. He wishes he could claim that perhaps the little wine he had was a little too much, but he has been playing on the knife's edge of danger and rationality since he first saw the vampire.

"You're a strange wizard, Harry Potter." Sanguini says, a look of delighted fascination on his handsome face. "Most would run instead of trying to comfort my kind."

Harry almost responds that his fascination and courtesy can't be too out of place given Worple, but then he thinks of all the instances where Worple treated the vampire like he would eat everyone if left to his own devices, and says nothing. Sanguini's eyes dart to his neck and his tongue wets his lips. Harry doesn't feel the fear he would have expected. He carefully tilts his head back, not too much, but just enough to show the skin of his throat.

"Careful." Sanguini pushes off the wall and comes to stand right in front of Harry with his hand tilting Harry's head back farther than Harry would have dared. His fingers are ice and his nails bite into the skin of his jaw. His voice is deep and rough, ancient as an old forest. "I don't have the control I usually do. It's been too long since I fed from the source."

Harry grins like a fox, even as his instincts scream of danger. "Maybe I'm offering." Sanguini gives him a curiously closed off look at that and backs off. Harry bemoans the loss of his fingers. "Sorry, I wasn't trying to offend you." he sighs, inwardly chastising himself.

The vampire smiles sharply. "You didn't offend me." he says quiet as the wind, "I am aware your offer was genuine, but are you aware of what you offer? You shouldn't trust any one or any being so causally with your blood or life."

Harry nods, swallowing thickly. "Why are people so cruel?" he changes the subject, then hastily adds when he gets a look of utter confusion, "My best friend, and my mother for that matter, is called a Mudblood for being born to non-magical parents, my dad's friend and my sort of godfather is called a dog because he is a werewolf, and I know that nan wasn't the only one to ever call you Leech. We treat house elves like slaves, and goblins with contempt, and then we wonder why you all flock to the dark side when war breaks out, when no one will give you guys any respect. It's vile. I wish I had the power to change how people view creatures and beings. I would make everyone equal."

Sanguini tilts his head curiously. "You have a lot more power than you seem to be aware of, Chosen one." Harry grimaces at the title. "People are more likely to listen to you than you know."

"I've tried." Harry protests weakly, but even he doesn't believe it. Honestly, Harry knows he could try more, and Sanguini knows it too if his unimpressed expression is any indicator. "Okay, I could've tried harder," he admits, "but I am only one person, and even with my fame I doubt I can change much on my own."

"True," Sanguini allows with a warm smile, "I doubt you have the ability to singlehandedly fix the political cesspool that is creature laws, but you can do much more than you think."

Harry grins. "I'll tell you what," he says, "when Voldemort is dead and everyone is refusing to leave me alone, I will use that to abolish all the anti-creature laws, and damn anyone who disapproves."

"Let them speak their words of disapproval aloud. Words are naught but wind.” Sanguini imparts wisely, but Harry hears the hidden meaning in his words. He's been promised the same before, Harry realizes.

Harry holds out his pinky finger."I promise." he says with a grin. At the blank stare he recives, Harry reaches out and entwines his pinky around the vampire's own pinky. "I vow to change the way people think of vampires and other creatures as soon as possible."

Sanguini gives him an inscrutable look, then when he untangles their fingers Harry cuts his pinky on Sanguini's nail. All of a sudden there is a whirl of wind, and Harry is backed up into a corner with the Vampire, crowded against the wall. Sanguini's eyes are voids. His heart pounds and his mouth is dry. He goes to speak but Sanguini presses a finger to his lips with a slight shake of his head. Harry takes his hand and raises his finger up to lick the bloody digit, and Sanguini's eyes track the movement with predatory hunger. For a moment Harry wonders if he somehow went too far, albiet accidentally, but then the door opens, filling the hall with a cacophony of music and conversation that reminds Harry just how quiet the hall actually is, and the dark and dangerous look of hunger vanishes.

"Sanguini?" Worple yells, looking about as he comes out, having escaped the girls. "Sanguini!" He stamps his foot after his second call is left unanswered. "Blast it all. Where could he have gone? Sanguini!?" He hurries down the hall calling after the vampire.

Before Harry can comment, the door opens a second time and Hermione and Luna come out, shocking Harry because he hadn't actually expected to see Hermione at the party. "I'm sure he's around somewhere." Hermione is saying. "He's probably looking for you too."

"It's okay," Luna smiles breezily, "I'm used to being forgotten."

Harry almost says something, but that would mean drawing attention to himself, and he can only imagine what they would think if they saw him flushed and wide eyed, pressed into a corner by a vampire. They would likely read his heated face and shallow breathing as the arousal he is so desperately trying to force down, and that's assuming they didn't immediately draw the worng conclusion due to the fact that Sanguini is a vampire, that he is feeding, and cause a scene. Luna, Harry thinks would be unbothered, but Hermione is one he doesn't know how to read. Evidence says she might be okay with Sanguini's vampirism, so long as she didn't perceive any danger, but he doesn't want to risk it anyways, so he stays silent and watches them leave.

"That's everyone." Sanguini remarks, then he looks down at Harry, with his red face and hummingbird heart, and that hungry glint in his eyes makes Harry shiver. "Tempting." the word is so quiet Harry doubts he was meant to have heard.

Harry wonders how old Sanguini is, he appears timeless and young, but he doesn't ask. The vampire's fingers caress the side of Harry's neck and Harry tilts his head back to expose his throat. That gains him a noise like a growl and the tall vampire leans down so he can brush his fangs against his skin, soft enough that there is no risk of damage, but just hard enough to show a hint of the danger he's in if Harry doesn't stop. Harry's breath hitches, his fingers clench the soft silken material of the vampire's shirt tightly. He isn't able to quiet the almost whimper he makes. There is thrill in this danger, in not knowing what the vampire might do next. Sanguini nuzzles his jawline, his tongue wets his throat, warmer than the cold of his skin, then sinks his teeth into Harry's throat.

Harry gasps in pain, tears pricking his eyes, and his fingers tighten impossibly around the fabric, but he makes no other noise or motion of protest. It is an odd feeling, he can feel the rush of his blood as the vampire drinks. He sucks hard and greedy, pressing Harry up against the cold stone wall. One of Sanguini's hands is buried in his hair, keeping his head where he wants it, while the other is on his hip. Harry stays perfectly still, his fingers clenched, and his head starts to get a little fuzzy. Sanguini pulls away, his mouth red with Harry's blood, and Harry lifts one hand to his throat, where only the wet slick feeling of his blood shows he was bitten at all, along with a couple barely noticeable already scarred over marks. Sanguini grabs his wrist and licks one of his bloody fingers, and Harry moans softly, his face heating up, a rush of dizziness making his vision blot and tiny stars burst in front of his eyes.

"Delicious." Sanguini praises.

Harry preens. "Thank you."

"You have beautiful eyes." Sanguini remarks, sounding as breathless as Harry is, oddly prone to compliment with Harry's blood on his tongue. Harry expects the normal follow-up, just like his mother, and is surprised when Sanguini instead says nothing. He's certain his eyes must be as dark as the vampire's are, given how much he wants this.

"So do you." he finds himself whispering. It's true, whether he's looking into the pitch black voids of his hunger or the deep nearly black blue of his natural eyes, Sanguini has strikingly mesmerizing eyes.

His compliment earns him a rumbling chuckle and then Sanguini asks, "Tell me Harry, how old are you?"

"Legal." the word shocks Harry more than it does Sanguini, who smirks at his eagerness. "Sixteen."

"Sixteen." Sanguini brushes his hair out of his face. "So young."

"How old are you?" Harry questions with open curiosity.

"Twenty-nine when I was turned." the vampire responds. "Nine-hundred-seventy-six this upcoming January on the twentieth."

"You're nearly a millennia old!" Harry gasps. "I didn't know vampires could be that old. I thought you guys were all five hundred or younger."

"I am the oldest of my kind still living." Sanguini tells him in a calm voice, "The elders, first of my kind, died in the Vampire rebellion of 1062, when I was still new, making me their king long ago."

"Wow." Harry breaths out, awestruck and somewhat intimidated. "So, you're vampire royalty then?"

Sanguini shakes his head. "No, I gave that title away in 1529 to the one you mortals refer to as Dracula." he smiles. "Though I am still treated as if I never abdicated, so perhaps I still am." He runs a finger across Harry's lip, distracting him, or perhaps drawing him back to the mood of moments earlier. "Sweet as your fascination is, do you want to stand here and talk Vampiric history which you no doubt learned in your fifth year as you should have if your history teacher followed the standard syllabus, or do you want to do something a dangerous and fun instead. We don't have much time before someone finds the two of us. Even my thrall won't keep us hidden for too much longer."

Harry laughs and grins up at the impatient vampire. "First, my history of magic professor is a ghost who doesn't teach anything except for the Goblin Rebellion." When he gets an outraged stare he presses his blood crusted finger to the vampire's lips. "But second, you can tell me all about history later. I would much rather be in the present with you."

He gets a dark look, but then cold lips are pressed to his, and his mouth tastes like his own blood, and Harry can't be bothered to care too much about schooling.


End file.
